


the whole "being dead" thing?

by iferbug (orphan_account)



Series: dnf oneshots [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clay | Dream-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Crack Treated Seriously, Cute GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Demon Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dreamon, Fluff, M/M, Mention of Punz, Mentioned Jschlatt, Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Not Really Character Death, Protective Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), SO, Swearing, Use of Real Names, based off of beetlejuice's "the whole being dead thing", dream is a demon, dream is dead but its swag yk, dreamnotfound, everybody loves a dreamon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27262639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/iferbug
Summary: dream2 @dreamwastaken2"technically TECHNICALLY you can’t prove that i *can* die until i *do* die, okay? i am immortal until proven mortal. i will live forever until something kills me. i’m not wrong"George @georgenootfound"Dont believe his propaganda >:]"DISCONTINUED CUS ION CARE ANYMORE EVEN IF IT POPPED OFF
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Dave | Technoblade, Clay | Dream & Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, GeorgeNotFound/Clay | Dream
Series: dnf oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953856
Comments: 13
Kudos: 292





	1. deal with a uh... goat man?

Clay's life as a human was eventful to say the least. If you could count _‘running from the cops, making it big on social media for a few years and dying mysteriously without a word like he wanted’_ as eventful then yeah. But there's an end to everything.

It was only a few weeks at best that he went “missing” and the internet breaking for two or three days because of it, ruling that he took a “mental health break” instead of what the police had ruled as a missing persons case. Unlucky for the police, they were never going to find him. Not alive at least.

Upon his deathbed, Clay was oddly disappointed there was no “Bright White Light” people claimed there was. It was actually just an office building run by a goatman that called himself "J. Schlatt" like he was a fucking president. Oh, and his right-hand man a buffed up pig dressed in a king outfit. It was kind of ridiculous.

For a few days, J. Schlatt, or Schlatt for short, requested Clay stay by his side under the name “Dream”. Working an office job was not something Clay expected to do after living a much more fun life as a streamer/creator and so he decided to do something about it. 

Jschlatt and Clay made a deal, it went a little like:

_ Are you done doing your work yet _

no

_ Get the fuck out wym no _

no

_ What do you want dipshit i'm busy  _

How can I get back to earth?

_ get back to earth? Why would you ever wanna do that? _

I-

_ Y'know what. Shut up.  _

K.

_ I’ll send you up there, cus you’re the only person around here I can tolerate besides Techno (Who Clay assumed was the massive pig man) and Tubbo (a short secretary boy that liked to leave little sticky notes with smiley-faces on Clay's desk. It was sweet.)  _

...Is there a catch?

_ smart motherfucker- alright. Here's some rules. _

_ Uno: You are never allowed to say your own name, you will go by Dream and only Dream.  _

_ Numero Two: You are only physical to those who know you deeply, alright? So you’re all ghosty for everyone else but the boys. _

_ Dos- Fuck it I can’t count, just don’t fuck around too much or I’m hauling your ass back in 'ere. Got it Dreamon? _

Bet.

**...Did Clay ever mention he has a terrible memory?**

It was safe to say Jschlatt was both the best and worst businessman, president and goat to ever … ¿exist?

As a Dreamon, Clay found out even from the other side he could still mess with his still alive friends. Like, for example, a few days ago Wilbur Soot, a guy he met a few years back was messing with a spirit box! Wilbur was a skeptic through-and-through obviously but the spirit box was fun for Clay, making it say stupid shit like “international cricket” and screech at ungodly stations was hilarious. _Wilbur couldn’t see him._

Oh and don't forget about Nick- he was the best to mess with. Unlike Wilbur, Nick wasn't a skeptic, instead he was, as Luke puts it, "a total pussy" which was 100% true. Luke never lies. Even so, one of his best friends _Nick couldn’t see him._

It made Clay wonder: Who could see him? Even if it had been a hot minute since he had passed away, he was anxious to mess with George. It felt odd. George was a skeptic beyond belief surprisingly, that didn’t mean he didn’t piss his pants every time they watched spooky movies on discord together for “ **Boys Night** ” as Nick called it. _What if George couldn’t see him either?_

Clay huffed out of his nose, shaking his head like a dog with his nose scrunched up in annoyance. Rummaging through the shorter boys' stuff felt wrong but what else could he do? Stare at him through the mirror? ~~He’s already done that for the past hour.~~

Clay would never admit it aloud but George was quite literally the prettiest man he’d ever seen- ~~that wasn’t Robert Pattison of course.~~

  
  


It was 2:55AM for George, the brunette had spent the last 7 hours coding, spacing out, procrastinating and coding. Sleeping wasn’t a foreign concept to his cat-like brain craving naps 24/7, he was only ever awake for 4 hours at a time to hang out with friends and all other hours are for strictly work and naps. You can’t beat a good nap.

George's phone lit up, blowing up with messages from Nick ranting on and on about how he _"Totally_ _Caught a Ghost With Snapchat Filters"_ (Clay had a lot of fun with that one). Guiltlessly, he left him on read again. George rested his heavy head on one hand, his left hand was cramping and he was sick of hearing the clicks of his mouse for the night.

There was a noise coming from the kitchen- was that plates? Or his new kitten fucking around again? Ignoring it felt wrong but after what seemed like an eternity of slumping against his hand and curiosity eating him alive, he _had_ to check.

  
“Fuck” george cursed to himself. What if it was an intruder? He doesn’t have any weapons on him because god knows hes built like a fucking jenga tower…

A dirty fork on his desk was good enough.

After psyching himself up with a small pep-talk he left his room, fork in hand. Creeping around the corner, trying his hardest not to step on any squeaky floorboards, he saw a figure. A tall, tall figure. **Way** too tall for George to handle. He held the dirty fork up high, gripping it with all his might and peered out from the doorway.

His mother would ridicule him but right now George was thankful of his bad habit of accidentally leaving the light on at night, he could get a better look at the intruder. They had blonde- no, brown- wait no. Dirty blonde wavy hair, it reached just past their shoulders.

It couldn't be...

“For fucks sake- Oh come on.”

Holy fuck. It _was_ Clay.

  
George gripped his fork tighter, eyes wide, standing in the middle of the doorway “Wh-”

“Huh-” Clay whipped around his head. Their eyes met, George's neck was craned up to the gods of course but they still met.

There was a moment of silence, staring “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Hold on- this motherfucker isn’t dead? 

An echoey wheeze filled the room, Clay couldnt comprehend that that was the only fucking thing George was concerned about: his outfit. The first time someone has seen him in months and that's it!

So, there Clay stood, well, floated a little above the ground in George's apartment. 

Clay was in his apartment. And god did he look better than George could ever imagine- I mean, a loose-fitted white shirt, painted black nails and tight black jeans-- and tattoos covering up one arm up to his collarbone along with a jawline literally anyone would kill for… he had to pinch himself. George thought he didn't have a type but this might be it.

George always imagined when they'd meet it’d be Clay waiting for George to get off a plane and dramatically spin him around, perhaps even kiss him like it was a shitty cliche fanfic.

But no, all he gets is Clay, looking hot as all fuck but acting like a rat in his kitchen attempting to inhale his whole ass pantry.

“Really? That's it?” Clay floated his way over to George and rustled his large hand into his hair. “I think I look nice.” George's cheeks felt red trying to contain his happiness and anxiety.

The brunette nestled his head into Clay’s chest, small tears formed at his eyes as the two stayed there in silence for a long moment, holding each other. “I thought you were dead” George’s voice cracked out.

Chucking, Clay pushed George off of his chest and held his face half smiling. “I am” his hands ghosted over George's waist lightly as if they had a mind of their own: craving stimulation.

“Wh- what?” wasn’t Clay touching him right now? George was sure that ghosts can’t touch the living, unless Clay did some voodoo shit. Actually, knowing Clay, he would probably pull that kind of shit.

“See the thing is George,” Clays silver rings glistened in the harsh white light as he pulled them away from his cheeks. “I uh, kinda didn’t make it” He scratched at the back of his neck as George stood in disbelief again. It seemed he was going to do that quite a lot tonight.


	2. cinnamon sugar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yEAAAH I KEEP ADDING CHAPTERS CUS ION KNOW HOW TO WRAP IT UP SO LETS KEEP IT GOIN WOOOO  
> this one is short, next one will b the longest yet i promise fellas :

His friend… his best friend… was dead yet standing, no, hovering right in front of his squinted eyes.

George didn't say anything, the air around him ran cold as ice, prickling at his skin like pins and needles would after streams. He could feel the sensation of something not quite right running up his spine. Chills. No words came to him, all down his throat was dry as a desert.

Clearing his throat grossly, George croaked out a small "...huh" 

Clay the definition of the word 'baffled' by his friend's reaction. A million curses ran through his head, all namely about how he shouldn't have taken advantage of his persuasive skills in deals. His name was  _ Schlatt  _ wasn't it? Or perhaps  _ J _ ?

"What?"

"Uhm," they stood in silence, George began to feel himself become lighter than air yet his head was filled to the brim with mercury. "Uh- yeah? Clay?" 

The dirty blonde blinked once, twice and thrice. Clearly not impressed.

"What the fuck."

"What?? Did I say something-"

Clay rubbed his hands dramatically over his face, pulling down his eyes and opening his mouth "How are you not freaking out right now? George it's fuckin' 3AM on a goddamn Tuesday and your best friend who happened to die. Keyword: Die. spills cinnamon sugar all over your kitchen tiles."

"hold on- you split the cinnamon sugar?" George peered around behind Clay, swerving his head a little too fast for his bodys self-deprived liking.

  
  
The blonde didn't mean to raise his voice but- who am I kidding, of course he did. "How in the FUCK are you caring more about cinnamon sugar more than m-"

George's shoulders bowed in on themselves, swaying back and forth. His head was clearly spinning too fast for him to handle as he collapsed with a thud, his body was placed so oddly perfect it looked like he was faking being asleep.

  
Is- Is  _ he  _ dead? Schlatt- J? Doesn't matter. The only thing J. Schlatt said about this type of scene that only people who "cared deeply for you can see you". But- what about Nick or Luke or Darryl! That couldn't have been just a lie, J Schlatt even said he tolerated his company, there would be no reason for him to lie. Still, Clay refused to believe their friendship isn't real. And also the fact he did **not** indeed have a favourite, nonetheless none of the others never seeing him was weird.

"Hey, George? Dude? Big G?"

He let a moment pass but: no response. Not even to a TommyInnit immitation, how rude.

Clay hung in the air, ever so close to perching on top of George's stomach where he laid out-cold with slow heavy breaths. He'd be lying if he said he didn't care for the older obviously, even if George was strong and capable of handling himself when he was blatantly not in the greatest of situations (ahem, the time George got a uti 'cause he didn't drink water for a week because he wanted to prove to nick that all he needed was water from food.. L).

A warm flush of blood ran to his cheeks. George looked so gentle. so **real**. The way wisps of dark brown hair stuck to his forehead was **cute**. He swore the bags under his eyes were getting lighter day by day, despite the fact they were **cute**. The way drool was pooling and pooling, creeping slowly outwards ever so slowly at the corner on his lips was… well, it was kinda **cute**. 

Waking up to a pool of wet spit wasn't cute but Clay would rather eat bugs than wake the narcoleptic boy up.

Clay didn't have a favourite… definitely not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iiii drafted this like 20 times i swear, i still dont like it but here!! i have exams rn so brain: rot :( hope this filler chap was aight

**Author's Note:**

> of course if gogy or dre are uncomfy with anything related or contained in my writing this will be deleted out of respect of their boundaries. this is real people fiction meaning: this is not direct fanfiction about real people, these are personified versions based on reality. content creators are people too :)  
> 


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